


Father of lies

by Mierke



Category: The Wicked + The Divine
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-26
Updated: 2016-10-26
Packaged: 2018-08-27 03:10:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8384962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mierke/pseuds/Mierke
Summary: What if Laura did get Luci out? A different take on the Prometheus gambit.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [weakinteraction](https://archiveofourown.org/users/weakinteraction/gifts).



> This is dark. But then again, how to write fluff about The Wicked + The Divine? Hope you enjoy. I loved getting a chance to dive into this pairing.

When I come to, Lucifer is at my side. I fumble and stumble, and crash my way through my first conversation with a god. 

I dreamt about meeting Lucifer. I dream about meeting all the gods, of course, but Lucifer is something special. When I saw her perform in Brixton, my entire being was... 

With Sakhmet, the energy was raw, pulsing. Baal's performance held the crackle of lightning, a fleeting sense of danger swept up in the euphoria of the music. Amaterasu was orgasmic, every single second of it, an eternity of body encompassing pleasure that would never end.

But Lucifer? I simply was and was not at the same time. I've never felt anything like it, and I would give anything to feel it again.

I completely mess up my chance at making an impression.

She's laughing at me, and when she asks me to meet Amaterasu, I almost want to tell her I don't care where she takes me, as long as she's the one doing the taking. 

I don't, of course. I'm both way smarter and way stupider than that.

But when she's taken in, I vouch to right that error. I want what she has, I want what she can give me.

Failing that, I just want her.

* * *

"You're out," I state, completely superfluous, as Luci looks at me.

(I actually call her Luci these days. I'm not used to it yet. I wonder if I ever will.)

She looks around, takes in the green grass, the vast sky. We're in the middle of nowhere for now, and she coughs. She doesn't ask how, though I can tell she wants to. She nearly asks why; she's not voicing the question, but it's written in her eyes clear as day. But what she says is...

"I can't actually give you any power," and something like regret lingers in her voice. 

"I never said I wanted you to," I answer, completely truthful yet not the truth at all. 

Looking into her eyes still gives me that sense of non-being, and I take a step closer to her. I don't care for what miracles she can perform, but I do care for the feelings she can instil in me. 

Without any thought or command, my body moves closer to her; her eyes following my movements. And just when I wonder why she's not doing anything, she meets me halfway, faster than I expected.

Her hands are all over me, her breath in my ear, and I feel the flames of hell licking against my insides. This is more than I expected, maybe even more than I wanted, definitely more than I deserve. 

Her mouth touches mine, her tongue coaxes my lips apart, and we kiss. I can almost feel the secrets of the universe in the skin underneath my fingertips and goose bumps erect on all of mine. 

Somewhere along the way, she's taken off her jacket and the rest of her suit soon follows. I worship her body, with not a trace of hesitance or insecurity, nor any shame; after all, she is a god. Where else would I worship than at her altar?

* * *

"Ananke won't actually let me escape," Luci says, as she lights up a cigarette.

"She has to know you didn't do it," I contradict.

"That's beside the point," she answers. "I broke her precious rules. Of course, I am the devil, so what could she expect, but that's never been argument enough to persuade her."

I shiver, despite the warmth of her body next to me. No matter the freezing wind, she doesn't seem to feel the cold at all; her skin is still burning, thrumming with the fire that consumes her. 

That consumed me not so long ago. 

"I refuse to live my days hiding," she says. "I will not be locked up until I die."

The silence that descends is uncomfortable and thick. I didn't much think beyond this part; freedom right now had been my only goal.

"There is, of course, another option," Luci says, and this time she turns to me, her eyes assessing as if she's trying to figure me out. "The Prometheus gambit."

My mind stops working for a minute, all thoughts coming to a halt.

"Isn't that just a myth?" I ask, searching for the truth in her eyes (hopeless, of course, but you can't blame a girl for trying).

"Part of it is," she says. "You can't just kill a random god and get their powers. That would be way too easy, wouldn't it? Power is never given without a cost."

Her fingertips glide over my side, and I shiver at the sensation.

"But if the human body sacrifices herself, the god can change vessels. Eleanor would die, but Luci could live out her remaining days."

"You want me to kill you?" I ask, and she all but rolls her eyes at me.

"I'm already dead, Laura," she says. "But if you kill me, I get to live."

* * *

There's a million thoughts raging through my mind. I never wanted the power this way; I don't want to lose her; I can't believe she's asking me to kill her; I can't believe she's trusting me enough to be her.

"How much of you is Lucifer and how much is Eleanor?" I ask, and she shrugs.

"I'm both and neither," she says. 

"Only one part of you would get to live," I state, and she waves her hand as if it's not important.

"Wouldn't be much of a sacrifice otherwise, would it?"

A bird sings, and I can hear the wind hustling through the trees. Luci is uncharacteristically silent, leaving me to work through this on my own. The fact that she's not actively trying to convince me is all it takes to convince me.

"What do I do?" I say, and there's something akin to gratefulness in her eyes. 

She takes my hands, and I focus on the warmth exuding from her body. It will be the last time I get to feel it from the outside, and I want to remember the sensation. 

"All you do," she says, "is whisper Prometheus after I count to four. Killing the devil has never been so easy."

"Sacrifice is never easy," I counter, and a sad smile plays around her lips.

"One," she says. My body has started trembling, and she pulls me closer towards her. 

"Two."

I wonder if I'll ever be able to enjoy being a god, knowing this is how it started. 

"Three."

I cling to her, want to brand my body with hers, want to remember the contours of her figure and the taste of her skin forever. I hide my face in her neck and breathe her in.

"Four."

She holds me tighter, saying goodbye. 

"Prometheus," I whisper. 

Click.

* * *

Her body seems to have disappeared. There's no blood, nothing at all to indicate that she was even here, that she existed. Not even her presence in my mind.

It takes a few hours before I finally admit to myself what I already knew the moment she clicked her fingers. 

She lied.

She's gone, truly gone. She must have thought that there was no way out of her situation; must have thought Ananke would be after her no matter what; must have wanted to go out on her own terms; must have wanted to be the one to decide this part of her life that would be inevitable in just over a year anyway. 

My breath shakes, my body trembles, my thoughts are one big jumble of emotions. 

I can't even be mad at her for deceiving me; not only because lying was very much part of who she was, but because in deceiving me, she was actually trusting me. Trusting me with loving her, trusting me with her death, trusting me more than anyone else she knew. 

She liked me enough (loved me, a part of my brain supplies, but that's too much to take in right now) to want me near her when she ended her own life. 

My anger that she had me go through this, my sadness at having lost her, even my selfish disappointment that I'm still mere mortal evaporate on that thought and are replaced with a deep sense of gratitude. 

I can almost hear her voice in my head while I put on my clothes (not that fabric will warm me, quite possibly ever again), and I allow myself to smile. 

I think I might have loved her too.


End file.
